Returning To Where It Began
by Unholy Blight
Summary: Vergil returns to his childhood home...


**'Why am I even going?'** _He thought angrily, slowly making his way down the gravel path, his hand shoved into his pocket, doing his best to keep from looking around the area he knew so well. Disregarding that he should be in best, getting the rest he so richly needed, rather then leaving the safety of his twin's shop to walk through town. _

_But he'd been restless...fever dreams of that awful night their father had to leave, of their mothers death, the attack, the fire, the burial of their mother...the fever found his every weak point, stabbing away at them until he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd decided to go out for a walk to clear his head...perhaps some of the cool night air would freshen his body and ease his mind. _

_So once he was able, he had quickly showered, dressed and slipped out of the shop. He didn't care if anyone heard him leave...he just needed to get away. It was too much for him to bear. _

_The Cerulean male had begun walking in the early hours of the evening, walking in silence for hours, he'd lost track of the time and when he finally came upon a familiar strip of road, he all but stilled. Looking up at the house at the end of the road with pained eyes. _**"How...why am I here?" **

_Slowly making his way up to the charred ruble of what looked to be an old house, his heart clenched in an unending agony as an image of an beautiful Victorian house flashed across his line of vision. Two figures sat on the porch, while another ran towards him, he noted the silver hair and the red shirt and he felt a scream rise in his throat. Shaking his head, the image faded as he looked back to the remains of the house. This...this place was his...their...was their home..._

_Vergil gulped down his grief, forcing himself to walk forward, dragging his feet as best as he could, creating little scuffs in the dirt. He made his way up to the old porch. Pulling his hand from his pocket, he lifted it to the old porch railing, running his hand along the blackened edges. _**"Still as beautiful as ever..." **

_He turned to the doorway, seeing the twin doors bent and hanging off the hinges, he gave a heavy sigh as he made his way up onto the porch, stilling for a moment as it creaked. Vergil slowly made his way inside, looking around the gutted remains of the house, nothing was recognizable. Just as he had made his way into the house, he felt himself stumble. Quickly correcting himself with a growl, he looked looked to see what he had tripped over. His eyes snapped wide open when he saw the old picture album covered in soot. Squatting down, he gingerly picked it up, out of fear it would crumble away. Thankful it had not, he slowly opened it._

_Revealing the soot covered pictures of him and his family as a choked sob rose in his throat. _**"It's...all still here..."**_ He whispered out, running his hand through the dust over a single picture, another sob rising in his throat when he saw a picture of his twin, trying to climb up the back of their father's chair, stealing a sip of his wine while Vergil distracted him. He remember that night...their father knew what they were doing...he'd allowed them each a sip. Dante had hated it. But Vergil loved it. It suited his pallet. _

_He shook his head with a weak laugh, before running his hand over another soot covered picture, nearly gasping when he saw a photograph of their mother and Dante. The picture was of Eva in a sundress, sitting under their favorite tree, reading to Dante as he slept in her arms. His father had captured the picture and told Vergil that the little moments meant the most. _

_Closing the album, he gathered a bag he felt was strong enough to handle enough of a long trip, he slipped the album inside, standing back up, he made his way through the house, gathering things he felt needed to be with them and not rotting away here. He stilled at his and Dante's room, gulping a bit, he pushed the door open, an image of his twin flashing to his mind. Shaking it away, he strode into the room, gathering Dante's old journal that he found stuffed under the floor boards, grabbing a few of his twins favorite weapons he'd had stored away before making his way to their parents bedroom. _

_Surprised to find that it was the only room in the house that had not suffered the most damage...but it had been the room where their.. Shaking his head to avoid the pain, he strode into the room and over to the closet, pulling it open he let out a gasp when their mothers scent rushed out to meet him. _**"Mom..." **

_He leaned close, taking in the scent like a greedy child, before he pulled the old red shawl she wore off one of the hooks, running his hand over the material, he pressed it to his nose, inhaling the strong scent he'd thought wouldn't be there. Before loosing himself in the aroma, he gently put the shawl into the bag, loading up her old pillow and sheet before he decided that it was time to go and inform his twin that the house was still standing...somewhat. _

_But he had one last thing to do..._

_Vergil exited the house with a grief filled sigh, running his hand over the door frame, before walking off of the porch, making his way up to the large hill. On which sat the tree they always sat under at sunset and on which...laid their mothers grave. He stilled when he reached the top, seeing the old headstone Dante had carved with his very own Devil claws, had a slash through it. Broken down the middle. His heart sank as he moved closer, setting the bag down, he grabbed one of the larger rocks near by, setting it down behind the headstone to prop of the broken piece of the headstone up. _

_He ran his hand over the headstone, another sob rising in his throat as he bowed his head. _**"Mother forgive me...I...I did not mean for any of this to happen. I did not wish for you to...or father to...I merely...I thought you didn't love me the way you loved Dante. Forgive me for being such a greedy child."_ He shuddered, letting his hand fall down to his side. _**

_Sitting there slumped on the ground, for what seemed like hours, was in reality an entire day. Vergil now lay slumped beside her grave, staring up at the tree, watching the leaves sway in the breeze._** "It's all so...broken...I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside."**_ He shuddered, his chest clenching just before he felt the urge to sleep suddenly hit him. He did not want to sleep here...no anywhere but here. Forcing himself to sit up, he grabbed the bag, throwing it onto his back as he stood, he gave one last look to the grave and the house, before making his way down the hill. _

**"Goodbye mother...I'll see you in my dreams..."**_ He said as he made his way down the gravel road._


End file.
